


Matters of Wanting

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Family, M/M, Mild Gore, Necromancy, Original Character(s), Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 05:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18046634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: If you want something hard enough, and you have the heart for it, then nothing can stop you from getting what you want. All you have to do is enforce the will of your emotions upon the petty thing that humans call reality.This is what Ouma Kokichi learns as a child- watching his Mother's stained hands turn lumps of mud and twig into ornate dolls of clay and metal. It is what his Grandmothers tell him while drawing his new bedroom into existence. Lies are unimportant when your heart's truth is stronger than death.Saihara dying doesn't matter. Kokichi wants him back, and that is all a witch needs.





	Matters of Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> In this house we defy death and gods because we love our boyfriend. We also!!! Thank redormio for an amazing birthday gift that inspired this, https://twitter.com/_redormio/status/1103897447263137793?s=19
> 
> Also I have no idea where Kokichi's family came from because I made them in like... Five seconds, but I love them and they are nice. Where did this method of magic come from??? I don't know but I'm probably going to write it down because the imagery is good.

It's raining when Kokichi finds his boyfriend's body. Of course, the rain has been lurking for a week now. Everything is soggy to the point of water haunting socks, and walls are made to mold. The weather merely lends a dreary tinge to the sight of Saihara Shuichi. A cold and miserable filter that complements the days old corpse. Old blood paints the scene as well. 

Kokichi blinks thrice before deciding to take his boyfriend's remains home to the basement. It's an important part of him, these emotional responses that come from the heart- rationality and logic doing nothing but giving them iron to stand on. He has no need for things like a mortician. There can be no autopsy. Saihara Shuichi will not benefit from the curious desecration of scientific strangers.

The only thing that will be done is the desecration that Kokichi will inflict, and it will certainly be a good blasphemy that sinks into Saihara's decomposed heart, so he moves. He gathers the white sheets from Saihara's bed and wraps the other boy in them. Indeed, Kokichi smiles and fails to waver. A single hour is all he needs. Something significant is captured by spindle fingers, and Kokichi hides it in his school bag.

He has already decided that his want is to pull Saihara out of the rivers of death.

As Mother and Grandmothers have taught with pale lips grinning kindly…

What a witch wants is what a witch shall pluck from Providence. Or whatever it is that magicless humans want to blame events on.

Mother responds to Kokichi's call by staying on said call while speeding concerning, when one remembers that they don't own a car. Kokichi decides to ignore any crime and instead drags his boyfriend out the door. Saihara is much heavier than Kokichi is. Normal due to the strain of constant practice.

"Your Saihara-chan is dead from what might be a robbery?"

"His more expensive merchandise is gone."

Silence.

"Otaku are quite cutthroat."

Frowning at his cell phone, Kokichi considers hanging up. He hates it when Mother beats around the thornbush. She obviously knows what Kokichi is planning to do.

The boy sighs, "I'm going to be removing his head, heart, and liver. At least."

A soft coo and screeching tires. The sound of the car is reaching Kokichi's ears two ways. He leans back on the steps of Saihara's house and wonders if the other boy's parents are also dead. If so, Kokichi feels a bit bad about leaving them behind. Just not enough to grab them.

"My baby is growing up. I can't wait to tell your father once he stops being lost in the rainforests," his Mother says as the car gets closer. Faint yelling can be heard. "Let's us not tell your father's parents though. Just my Mothers."

"Grandma and Nan don't really like necromancy," Kokichi points out. 

Wispy laughter curdles around his ears, "They prefer things like familiars or the use of plants. But witches don't begrudge wants. You do want, don't you?"

Something that a witch doesn't want does not happen. Kokichi remembers that lesson. He remembers other lessons as well, all of them important and all of them inducing seclusion from peers. It's something that his Mother and Grandmothers have made apologies for. Yet Kokichi knows that they've always been aware of the consequences. They did not raise him to be a witch without wanting to. Likewise did they not apologize without wanting to. Witches do not do without wanting.

("Humans who don't have the heart for magic are strange," Kokichi remembers his mother saying, "They let strangers take away bodies... Allowing vital things to be cut into without respect, whether literal or not. They're taught that one must not defy death via logic. So they do not try in ways that count."

He recalls asking in return, "Should one defy death?" 

Mother shrugged then. 

"It's a matter of wanting.")

Everything is a matter of want. The permanency of death cannot resist a witch, because want is more powerful than the wavering claws of rivers like Styx or Lethe. If a witch cannot accomplish the fulfillment of their desire, then they must simply want more. Crave more rabidly, desire more strongly, feel with more feverish emotions. 

"Mother would want father, wouldn't she?" the boy tilts his head and watches as an unfamiliar car slams to a stop.

"Mother does not think that a sixteen year old boy should be proposing to someone via implications, but she understands!" the woman chirps, kicking the car door open and exiting like a spider crawling from a hole.

Black hair curls against the plain uniform of a housewife, dress and apron, differentiated only by sticky clippings of things and dried plants; Mother in all of her stained glory. She waltzes up on thin legs and with hands in gardening gloves. The basement again, as always. Kokichi watches her approach with placid focus. He accepts the sage scented kiss to the crown of his head. And so too does he glower at how Mother grabs Saihara. Like a sack of potatoes, Saihara is tossed over Mother's shoulders.

"I date that."

"Open the door for him then! Don't be rude... Wehihihi."

Purple eyes roll, but Kokichi darts to open the backseat and helps his Mother ease the corpse in.

"Such a shame that you didn't find him within hours. Now I need to call a grave robber. Or maybe a nurse in need of cash. Ah, a funeral home?" Mother murmurs on the way home. She smiles and grabs a track phone from the dashboard. "Call a person of ill morals with access to dead bodies."

The phone makes a scream and begins to bubble, plastic hissing. 

Eyes just a shade lighter than Kokichi's narrow. Mother sniffs and tosses the melting thing back into the dashboard. 

"This is why I married your father," the woman says. "He makes the phones work consistently."

Kokichi stares as the warped faces that slowly try to escape the now abominable cellphone. He looks at his mother, "Dad can't do witchcraft."

"He's a nerd that loves technology enough to not curse it. Like I said, that's why I married him. Patience for the machine spirits is not in my old blood."

Sometimes, it's best to not question your parents. Kokichi fidgets and glances back at his boyfriend's remains. 

"Koki, give me your phone."

"No..."

Mother pouts the rest of the way home. Even when narrowly avoiding a small child, pouting. 

She's still pouting when she puts Saihara onto the couch, sighing while Kokichi's Grandmothers gawk at the sheets that do nothing to hide the contents. The old women stare at their grandson. 

He shrugs, "My boyfriend is dead."

Nan raises an eyebrow while her wife grimaces. 

"What did you kill him for?" the wizened lady questions. "He's a nice young man. Wants to see dead bodies for a living. Plays that dangit table topper with you. He can't see the remains while he is the remains.”

"I don't think our grandson killed him," Grandma says, slapping a hand over her eyes. She grumbles something about law enforcement.

Kokichi decides to not even try explaining what Dangan Ronpa is. He turns around and spots the keys, in the kitchen today, on hooks among dried herbs. Grabbing the right one takes a minute. Still, he's thankful that at least one of his Grandmothers knows what a detective is.

"Are the books I'm not supposed to look at under the altar?" the boy asks his Mother. 

The woman shrugs while picking and prodding Saihara's wrappings. She titters when the couch hisses, displeased at the furniture, "We aren't even supposed to have a basement, but we do. The books full of how to debase the realm of gods and bring about the scorn of nature's laws could be anywhere."

The house is dusty. Full of vapors. It smells of ozone and tastes like sunbeams in the autumn. Outside is a shell that says Japanese Residence Of Lower Class. Inside harkens to Western influences from Nan being foreign. Kokichi is not sure where from. It is not something that is spoken of- it doesn't matter. All it does is mean that the windows often open up to fields of snow and evergreen forests that never see true daylight. 

The floors are hardwood the color of black coffee, the walls have passages behind them, and Kokichi climbs a hand-carved ladder to reach his bedroom. 

People do not go into Kokichi's home, because people cannot know that there is a basement-attic loop and five bedrooms with a large library. Unless they are going to be married or there is no choice. Certain parts of his life must not intersect. 

Black hair slithers down Mother's fingers as she tucks strands behind her ears.

"Right. I think I want to marry my boyfriend. So I'm going down to the basement because I want him to be alive anyway," Kokichi says as he walks over to stairwell. "Please don't throw Saihara-chan down. The less replacement parts needed the better."

"The necromancy books are under our mattress!" Nan calls after him.

"What!" he huffs and turns around, twitching. "Why are you hiding them there now?!" 

The woman shrugs, "You went into a coma bringing a puppy back to life. So I hide them."

Kokichi glares at his Nan with puffed up cheeks. To cite a single act from when he was six is unfair. It was only a six day coma too. Mother never stresses it either, honestly…

"I'll be in the basement," he grits as embarrassment makes him wilt. Kokichi pauses. The boy pulls open the door and makes the first step down. He can grab the books later. Going into that room will just result in riddles from cryptic birds.

"He's all grown up now. Bringing dead bodies home and getting ready to enforce his will upon the fabric of reality," Mother faintly says as he descends. "I just really hope he doesn't open a vortex that consumes the whole prefecture."

"Can you actually cut off the boy's head or will I get to show off that guillotine I stole during the French Revolution?!" Nan calls out.

Kokichi stops trying to ignore his family's casual conversation. He wheezes and turns to look up the stairwell. His Nan looks back down at him. After a moment, the boy opens his mouth, "We have a what?"

"A g-" 

"How... old are you?"

One hour later, Kokichi finds himself holding Saihara's head. He has a list of things that he needs to gather and a collection of things that he doesn't. Blood of the same type and energy of his beneficiary. Almost every non-vital organ must be replaced. Everything that starts to rot first. Saihara's liver, heart, and head will be repaired by Mother. His Grandmothers will handle anything involving plants, of course.

"I can't believe you asked how old Mom is," Mother mutters, faintly scandalized. "But I suppose that wanting to know is fine. She says such things which incite wandering."

The boy rotates Saihara's head and watches teal hair drift in the air, "Wondering?"

Purple eyes meet purple eyes. Mother blinks, tilts her head, and smiles. She laughs, "No. This is part of why your father sends home so many gifts. She mentions things and people feel compelled to find them."

Saihara's head and neck are gently put to rest within a cauldron of shimmering liquid. Kokichi hums at the sight of floating hair, and the boy grabs a lid off of stone before setting it on top. He presses his fingertips into the boundary of cauldron-lid and smiles. Chill drains into him as air hisses. Enclosure is important.

“No wonder he sends home strange plants and toys.”

Eating a lot will be important too. Something with many calories and nutrition, fats and carbohydrates, or something made with raw flesh for the meaning. Kokichi licks his lips and glances over at his Mother. Her hair is free from order again. Blood covers thin fingers, but Kokichi is more concerned about how she's fiddling with the guillotine.

The boy stretches and remembers the strange grin on his face- how he smiled after pulling Saihara's head away. Perhaps he'll smile while holding the other boy's heart at well. It has yet to be a week since death. 

Holding the heart will most likely allow Saihara's feelings to leak through. What with Saihara's brain being full of wanting to see Kokichi, one last time, it's no wonder that the later is still smiling. Knowing that his boyfriend has died thinking of him and nothing else is flattering. Saihara must certainly love him. 

"Do you think I could get the heart out? Or maybe just the liver."

Mother gives him an unamused look and inhales. She crosses her arms, smearing corpse blood onto her apron, "I'm not allowing you his impurities. Those are private, for you may not like what lurks where alcohol is purged."

"I want to."

"I want you not to."

Kokichi rolls his eyes and accepts that he got lucky the first time. After a few more moments there is squelches, creaks and wet snapping sounds. Mother does not need to crack ribs. She doesn't even need to remove much of anything from Saihara's now limbless torso. Only to reach her delicate hand past bones and meats, until she can wrap her fingers around Saihara's heart to the point of a satisfying grip.

"Awwwww..." Mother coos.

Then she yanks out Saihara's heart and drops it into a jar.

"He's adorable on the inside and healthy! That's good," the woman chirps. She offers no explanation.

"You don't know how to use a cellphone. Remember that each time you tease your son."

Mother pouts before sealing the jar, "I would not have to bewitch the things if they would obey me better. You are being mean-spirited. Who taught you to do that? Was it the phones? Did the dead ones ask for revenge?"

Kokichi very carefully doesn't giggle while trying to explain that phones aren't alive. Unfortunately, Mother doesn't believe him. She strongly believes that everything is alive. Perhaps she's not wrong though. The boy picks up the cauldron, Saihara's head within, and very carefully carries it over to the planter. He leaves it nestled among fertile soil and plants known for protectiveness. It's important for thoughts to continually grow.

Witches place value in symbolic gesture for a reason. If Kokichi believes something, then of course it must be true- and there's no reason for it not to work. How else would anything function? There's no such thing as a lie in the face of what Kokichi wants.

If Kokichi insists that this additional thing must be true, then who are these weak willed plants that only think in pheromones to deny him?

He only says the truth.

Purple eyes squint at the cauldron's legs while hands pat at moist dirt. Gently, Kokichi grins once more. He has but a small list of body parts to harvest and mold into copies of Saihara's own. Then the boy shall stitch the corpse into a whole. Soaked in solutions and oils, spider silk threads the color of gold, sewing needles crafted from yew and whale bone; Kokichi will defy death and mock the faces of gods. 

Nothing keeps a witch from what they want.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a scene in mind for Kokichi's dad to come home like, "Wait why is our son sewing the Saihara boy's arm back on? Also I met this really nice young man that was lost. It's a good thing I was trying to contact those people about the mandrakes. But why is the Saihara boy in our house-" 
> 
> Then Kokichi gives his boyfriend a smooch which results in gasping. 
> 
> 🤔 Poor guy hasn't been able to Skype for a while. Totally missed out on valuable information and fretting opportunities.


End file.
